Facing the Consquences
by tree979
Summary: In the heat of the moment, Junior makes what he thinks is a safe bet. He's wrong, and finds himself having to honour the bet. Dark non-con Junior and Baptiste slash. MATURE EYES ONLY


**Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and I make no money from this.**

**Author's note: I've had this fic knocking around half-finished on my hard drive for MONTHS, and finally got around to finishing it. WARNING: It is very dark and not for the faint of heart. It's non-con (maybe dub-con, if you were feeling very charitable) and some (okay probably most) people might find it upsetting. MATURE EYES ONLY! You have been warned...**

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><p>"Just take the shot!" Junior hissed. "If you let him get in that car there's no way you'll get a clear shot!"<p>

"Relax. I've got this," Baptiste said, refusing to be hurried as he tracked the target though the scope of his sniper rifle. The Old Man had finally relented and given him an assignment where he would get to take out a target from a distance, and Baptiste was determined to make the most of the opportunity to show off his sniper skills. Unfortunately the only way the Old Man would let him take on such a high profile hit was with Junior spotting for him and with Guerrero set up at a secondary location as insurance in case he missed the shot. Junior was more of a hindrance than any kind of help. He was only supposed to be helping Baptiste make the necessary adjustments to compensate for wind speed and direction, but instead he had done nothing but criticise and try to interfere. Baptiste suspected he was purposely trying to distract him. It was the kind of thing the Old Man would tell him to do in order to see how Baptisite performed under pressure. He took a deep breathe and tried to tune out the sound of Junior's voice.

"Any chance you're gonna take that shot any time soon? I got places to be, dude," Guerrero said via his earpiece. Baptiste knew that Guerrero wasn't acting under the Old Man's orders to distract him, he was just pissed that Baptiste was taking his time to perform a task that he could have done in his sleep.

Junior groaned when the target got into his waiting limo. "You've blown it!"

"Not just yet, mate," Baptiste said. "When I make this shot you are going to give me the number of that hot little red-head dancer I saw you go home with last week, and I'm going to have myself a nice little private party."

"No way, dude," Guerrero laughed. "I've been trying to get that chick's number out of him for weeks! Word is that she can suck your brains out through your cock…"

"No one is getting her number!" Junior hissed. "He's missed the shot!"

"Not yet I haven't," Baptiste said, hoping that his surveillance of the target was about to pay off. The limo was as close to bullet proof as a car could get, but if the target followed his usual routine, he still had a shot. It would be an unnecessarily complicated and showy shot, if he managed to pull it off, but it would most definitely get the Old Man's attention. It might even lead to some more interesting assignments.

"He's in the limo! There's no way you can make that shot!" Junior said, exasperated by Baptiste's refusal to accept failure. "If you manage to take him out now, I'll blow you myself!"

Then Baptiste saw what he had been waiting for. The target rolled down his window an inch, maybe two, just to let a little fresh air into the vehicle. Baptiste smiled. It was just enough. He slowly squeezed the trigger and the round slipped through the gap in the bullet proof glass and hit the target just behind the ear. Baptiste watched the impact of the bullet as the target's head seemed to explode, showering both sides of the glass with skull fragments, blood and brain matter.

Baptiste had a wide grin on his face as he began breaking down the his rifle into it's component parts and packed it away into its case. He resisted the urge to gloat for the time being, deciding instead to savour watching Junior report his success to Guerrero via the his headset.

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><p>The Old Man was impressed. He spent twenty minutes ranting about the stupidity of complicating a simple hit with fancy trick shots, but Baptiste could tell that he had made an impression. The Old Man was never big on handing out praise, but Baptiste had made the shot from a considerable distance, through a crack in the window of a moving vehicle. It <em>was <em>impressive.

Baptiste took the dressing down stoically and tried to look suitably repentant, but all the while he could see that the Old Man had a calculating look. Baptiste hoped that look meant that Joubert was reassessing how best to use his skills as a sniper, but he'd have to wait and see.

Joubert's rant finally wound down and Baptiste was dismissed ("Get the fuck outta my office before I shoot that smug look off your face!"). All in all, Baptiste considered it a win, and he headed to the locker room with more than his usual swagger. And he still had his prize to claim from Junior…

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><p>Baptiste's shot had been pretty spectacular and Junior realised that he'd seriously underestimated the new guy's skills. He took his time in the shower, putting off the moment when he'd have to face an unbearably smug Baptiste. With any luck he'd just accept the redhead's phone number with the minimum of crowing, and nothing would be said about his rash offer to blow the guy if he made the shot.<p>

As soon as he stepped into the locker room he realised that Baptiste was not going to let him off that easy. He'd stripped off most of his clothes and was blocking Junior's locker, wearing only his pants. The casual way that his hand rested at his hip, with his thumb tucked into his waistband spoke volumes, and he didn't seem in the slightest bit put off by Guerrero's presence.

"Time to pay up, Junior," Baptiste grinned.

"Fine. I'll give you her number," Junior sighed. "You got a pen?"

Baptiste laughed, the sound echoing round the locker room in way that made Junior struggle not to flinch.

"That's funny, mate. Really funny. I would have been happy to settle for the chick's digits if you hadn't have so spectacularly upped the ante, and within hearing of a witness too!"

"It's true, dude," Guerrero said, cocking an eyebrow. "You did offer to blow him if he made the shot. And he did make the shot."

Junior glared at Guerrero. He'd been counting on him to back him up, but it seemed he was too amused by the situation to intervene.

"Don't look at me like that, Junior," Guerrero sighed. "I'm sick of having to remind you not to be so fucking impulsive all the time. One day your life is going to depend on your ability to keep a cool head. If you won't listen to me, maybe it's time you faced the consequences of acting on impulse."

"By sucking Baptisite cock? Are you insane?"

Guerrero shrugged. "You're the one who raised the stakes."

Junior could see that he wasn't going to get any help from Guerrero, not when he seemed to be treating the situation as a learning opportunity. His teaching methods could be brutal whenever he thought Junior wasn't paying attention, and he thought back to the time that he'd argued that he didn't see the point in learning to diffuse a bomb when all he really needed to know was how to build it. Guerrero had calmly demonstrated the correct way to render the bomb safe, ignoring Junior's protests, before locking him in a closet with a live device and telling him that he'd better have been paying attention because he only had three minutes before it would detonate. Junior had found a level of focus he didn't know he possessed, and with the three minutes rushing by he managed to recall what Guerrero had just shown him in perfect detail. Joubert lost it when he found out what Guerrero had done, ordering two of his men to hold him down whist he beat him halfway into a coma. Afterwards Guerrero had smiled and told Joubert that at least Junior would never forget the lesson.

Appealing to Guerrero was clearly going to be pointless, so he tried a different approach. "You'd really rather have a guy blow you than a chick, Baptiste? I didn't know you swung that way."

Baptiste laughed again, shaking his head. "But this isn't just about sex, is it? It's about you running that pretty little mouth of yours and thinking you never have to face the consequences. It's about finding out if you're a man of your word who honours his debts, or just some punk throwing his weight around 'cause he knows he can go running to daddy to save his ass when he gets in over his head."

"Joubert is _not _my father!"

"No, but you are his favourite, dude. Baptiste is right; one word to the Old Man and this will just go away."

"So what's it going to be, Junior? Are you a man, or just daddy's little boy?"

Junior cringed inwardly. He had of course considered the idea of walking out of the locker room and taking the matter to Joubert, but there was a lot more at stake now than just his dignity. He'd worked so fucking hard to earn the respect of Joubert's crew, Guerrero's in particular, and now he felt as if it all hung in the balance. He could wriggle his way out of the bet but it would cost him more than he was prepared to sacrafice. Joubert was likely to over-react to the situation anyway and the fallout from telling him could have serious consequences for all of them.

"Are you sure this is just a power trip, Baptiste? You seem a little too eager to me." He looked pointedly at the way Baptiste's pants were already starting to tent.

Baptiste shrugged. "Never had a problem getting it up, and I don't mind admitting the thought of watching you choke on my cock has a certain appeal."

Junior looked across at Guerrero in one last silent appeal for help, but was met with a deliberately blank look. He got the feeling that although Guerrero didn't approve of the way Baptiste was trying to provoke him, he considered this Junior's mess, and he'd have to deal with it himself.

"Fine. You want me to do it now?"

"Yeah, right now."

"Then Guerrero stays, as a witness. I'm not doing this only to have you claim I backed out after he left."

Baptiste grinned. "Sure, why not? I kinda like the idea of someone else seeing you on your knees for me."

"If he does this, it stays between the three of us," Guerrero said. "This isn't about public humiliation, it's about Junior keeping his word. You tell anyone and I'll kill you. Slowly."

Junior felt a surge of gratitude and relief as Baptiste's grin faltered. Baptiste wasn't scared of much, but he was scared of Guerrero. "Okay."

"Can I at least get dressed first?" Junior asked. "There's nothing to say I have to be butt-naked to give head."

They both looked to Guerrero, who nodded, and Baptiste moved out of the way, allowing Junior to retrieve his clothes form his locker. He dressed quickly, not bothering to dry himself off properly, and once he was fully clothed he didn't feel quite so vulnerable.

"You done stalling now?" Baptiste asked. Junior glared, but didn't reply, so he just leaned back against the wall and undid his pants, pushing them down to mid thigh.

Junior felt nauseated as he took the few steps across the room and sank down to his knees in front of Baptiste. He'd never even touched another guy's penis before, and suddenly finding himself at eye level with Baptiste's semi-erect dick was surreal. Unlike Junior, he hadn't showered yet and the slightly musky scent of sweat and gunpowder radiated off his skin. He was circumcised, which Junior thought had to be a plus in terms of hygiene, and he fought the hysterical need to laugh at the part of his mind that was able to make such a practical observation under such circumstances.

Baptiste gripped his cock, holding it out towards Junior's mouth. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Junior took a deep breath and opened his mouth, taking in just the head and sucking on it cautiously. Baptiste grunted, and Junior felt him beginning to swell in his mouth. His hands slipped round to the back of his head, and he started to exert a little pressure, forcing Junior to take him deeper into his mouth.

It didn't taste quite as bad as Junior had imagined it would, just kind of sweaty and male, but as Baptiste swelled to full hardness, he began excreting salty sweet pre-cum that was cloying and sticky. Junior kept his eyes squeezed shut and focused on sucking as hard as he could without letting his teeth come in contact with skin, hoping that it would be enough to bring Baptiste off quickly.

"You're not even trying, Junior," Baptiste laughed. "This is going to take a whole lot longer if you don't start using some tongue! And try using your hands too. Unless you think your mouth is going to take it all."

Junior could feel himself blushing, and although he was sickened and humiliated by what he was having to do, he knew that the only way to get it over and done with was to do as Baptiste suggested. He gripped one hand around the base of his cock and Baptiste hummed his approval and began thrusting into his mouth as Junior worked over the tip with his tongue. He found he had better control over how deep and hard Baptiste was able to thrust when he used his hand as well as his mouth, even more so when he used both hands.

"Yeah, now you're getting it," Baptiste moaned, pulling at his hair. "You've gotta make it good, Junior."

Junior couldn't let himself feel angry about what was happening. If he did he'd have to do something about it, and as perverse as it was, he had to finish this if he wanted to keep Guerrero's hard won respect. It wasn't easy though, and he had to stay focused to stop Baptiste from pushing too far into his mouth. His thrusts were too relentless for Junior to be able to work out any kind of technique, he just lapped at his cock when there was room in his mouth to do so, and sucked as hard as he could when there wasn't. It seemed to be working though, judging by the noises Baptiste was making.

"Fuck! Who knew you'd actually be good at this, Junior? Maybe you like a nice big cock in your mouth. You want it don't you? Having your mouth fucked like this. I bet you're hard right now, with your mouth wrapped around my cock…"

Junior wished that Guerrero would intervene on his behalf and tell him to shut the fuck up, but he never said a word, and he just had to resign himself to the fact that Baptiste could say whatever the fuck he liked. His jaw ached and his neck was beginning to protest at having to bob his head over and over. He was reaching the limit of what he could physically and psychologically endure when Baptiste suddenly yanked his head back, tilting it so that he had to look up at his face.

"Are you enjoying this, Junior?"

"Fuck you!" He barely managed to spit the words out before Baptiste forced his mouth open again and plunged his cock inside. Junior tried to push him back, but he realised with a growing sense of panic that he intended to make good on his threat of making him choke on his cock. His hands were laced behind Junior's head and he used them as leverage to force himself deeper into his mouth and into his throat. At first he tried to just push Baptiste away, but found that it had little effect. He was struggling to breathe and the panic was making it hard to think. Baptiste had managed to force his considerable length into his throat, and the more Junior struggled, the more he moaned and thrust harder and faster.

Junior began beating his fists against Baptiste's chest, and finally Guerrero seemed to catch on to the fact that he was in serious trouble.

"That's enough, Baptiste. Let him go."

"Just a little more," Baptiste panted. "I'm nearly there."

"I said that's enough!"

Junior heard the sound of Guerrero cocking a gun, and suddenly Baptiste's hands released their grip on his head and he could breath again, once he stopped coughing and retching.

"You've got to let me finish, Guerrero, or it doesn't count," Baptiste said, almost pleading with him.

"I think you can finish yourself off don't you?" Guerrero countered, his aim never wavering.

"Fine. But he has to take to the face."

Junior looked over at Guerrero, at a loss to know what to make of the way he seemed to be renegotiating on his behalf. Guerrero seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding to show that he agreed to Baptiste's terms.

Baptiste grabbed Junior's hair in one hand, pulling him in so he was only inches from his groin, and used his other hand to jerk himself off. Junior was too stunned to object, and after half a dozen strokes Baptiste groaned and came over Junior's upturned face, narrowly missing his eyes, his come falling on his cheeks and in his hair.

Baptiste laughed, drunk on endorphins and the feeling of victory, and shoved Junior roughly away from him, sending him sprawling backwards on to the floor.

"He'd paid his debt, Baptiste," Guerrero said. "Now leave."

"I'll just grab a quick shower then-"

"I said leave. Now. Before I change my mind."

It finally seemed to register that Guerrero still had a loaded gun pointed at him, and he hurriedly gathered up his clothes and left without another word.

Guerrero offered Junior his hand and hauled him to his feet. "I didn't know he was choking you, not right away. It shouldn't have gone that far."

Junior didn't reply. He just grabbed his towel and wiped the semen off his face. He wanted to throw up and wash his mouth out, but he was determined not to show any sign of weakness in front of Guerrero.

"I'll make sure he keeps his mouth shut about what happened in here. No one else will ever know."

"But I'll know, Guerrero," Junior said, his voice sounding scratchy and hoarse. "I guess this is another lesson I won't forget."

For a moment it seemed as if Guerrero was about to do the unthinkable and apologise for making Junior go through with it, but then it passed. "Go take another shower. You're a mess."


End file.
